


The Bar

by handsinforests



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 21:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsinforests/pseuds/handsinforests
Summary: Clarke and Anya meet at a bar.





	The Bar

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god I'm back.

She’s staring from across the bar. Her hand is cupped under the wine glass and she is staring, from across the bar. There’s probably something Clarke needs to be doing right now, like not lifting her head to make awkward eye contact every five seconds, but she’s way too sober for that. She takes a swig of her beer. Still too sober, but fuck it. She rises from her seat, smoothing her blue dress as she stands. The other blonde has put the glass on the bar at this point, leaving the hand on her hip instead. She’s taller than Clarke, which isn’t a problem persay, but it is intimidating. “Hey.” The bar wasn’t as nearly as large as she thought. 

“Hey.” The taller woman smirks. “I’m Anya.”  
“Clarke.” She can feel the heat on her cheeks and swears Anya’s smirk gets wider.  
Anya’s hand is on her arm before she asks the question, but Clarke can’t find it in herself to care. “Wanna dance?”  
She doesn’t have to say anything when Anya pulls her onto the dance floor, turning suddenly to press against Clarke’s back. Her hands are on her hips before Clarke fully realizes what’s happening, and once she does Anya’s hands are sliding up to her waist and back down, dragging themselves across her. “You do this to every girl?”  
She feels the laugh, the rumble in Anya’s chest, more than hears it over the music. “No.”  
Clarke turns around and presses herself against Anya, looping her arms around her neck and leaning forward. “Kiss me.”  
Anya pulls her in, taking her top lip between hers and, yeah, Clarke could do this for years. Anya’s lips are soft. She pulls her closer breaking from her momentarily to catch her breath.  
“Come home with me.”  
She asks the same when the taller woman is seemingly attempting to hickey her name into her neck. “Do you have a complex?”  
“It just seems like you could have anyone you want.”  
“This is my first time at a bar.” Clarke stops short.  
“Seriously?”  
“I never got the hype.” Anya shrugs. “Now I do, of course, but not every bar has pretty girls like you.” Clarke doesn’t let her say much after that.  
The loud ringtone of Clarke’s phone makes them both jump, and Clarke scratches the back of her neck as she answers the phone. “Our uber’s here.” She shoves the phone back in her pocket as Anya laughs quietly. 

When Anya has made her come for what seems like the thousandth time that night she manages to laugh at herself. “I’m not bad for a first, huh?” Anya just hums against her folds.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm gonna keep these going(with better quality obviously) for the month. I want to start writing fanfic again and this was a great way to get reintroduced.


End file.
